by J. C. Allen
“I forgot how grumpy you were in the mornings,” she said nostalgically with a sigh.
It was hard to stay mad at Mom, even if she had made me assume the worst. Admittedly, I’d have a talk with her later about not waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn so that I could get the sleep I needed, most especially when it was only for casserole, but come on. It was my Mom, not Simon or some other punkass in the club.
I managed a grin at her and then gave her a proper greeting. She hugged me and checked my face like I have something on it. Fortunately, Isabelle wasn’t as aggressive in leaving a mark on me as I was on her.
Oh, shit, I hope she can cover those up. Probably not very subtle.
“Did my brothers get casseroles too?” I said as things slowly began to come together in the kitchen.
“Nope.”
“Really?” I said, surprised.
“Yeah, I figured you were having a hard time, what with all that nonsense with the club.”
She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms. I guess she had heard and figured out what had happened with Simon as well—but right now, it wasn’t something that I was going to particularly stress myself over.
“Yeah, well. It is what it is.”
I kept eating, but my mother didn’t exactly seem satisfied with the answer. Still, I wasn’t sure what to say and just kept my focus on the food.
“This is good Mom, you made it today?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
Well, shit, I guess we’re getting right down to it, huh.
“I know it seems hard but it will be fine. Your Dad ran into quite a few problems too, so it isn’t just you.”
“It’s not?”
I stopped chewing. My mother had always tried to stay as far away as she could from club business—it was very unlike her to suddenly be engaging me in the matter at hand. She mostly just wanted us to be safe… it was enough to make me wonder just what the fuck was actually going on.
She shook her head. I stared into her dark blue eyes, but she was unwavering. Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly making me feel any better.
“No,” my mother said. “He had shit going on with the police at one point, the FBI, and, of course, the county.”
I knew about that, but the FBI? Goddamn.
“Shit. How did he get out of it?”
“I don’t know. He never told me.”
That was kind of surprising to hear—my mom kept club business from me, but as far as I was aware, my father didn’t keep club business from her.
“I thought you two talked about everything.”
“We did. But we also didn’t.”
What the hell does that mean?
“If we talked about everything with the club, we wouldn’t have lasted as long as we did, Jaxson.”
Her voice went soft, and I knew we had been talking about him for too long. It was also getting into dangerously emotional territory—she was talking about things that our father had seemingly deliberately kept her in the dark on. I could think of few things tougher for my mom than to know my father had perished with secrets.
I didn’t think that there were secrets that would have hurt her—no adultery or no murder as far as I could see—but still…
“Makes sense,” I said. Change the subject now. Find something else. “Thought you might be interested to know. I met a girl.”
“What?” she said, immediately smiling. “Where did you meet her? Is she your girlfriend?”
I just laughed. I didn’t open up like this often, but with Mom, and after the things said, it was for the best.
“Relax Mom, one at a time.”
She nudged my arm. I took another drink of coffee, knowing full well that she wasn’t going to repeat her questions—it was on me to answer them one at a time.
“I met her at the club. She is new to town though, so she isn’t a regular or bar buster. She came here for graduate school, actually.”
“Oh, she’s smart. Like me.”
She wants me to date someone smart like her. Can’t blame her; smarts are good, after all.
“Yeah, exactly like you. Anyway, she came to one of the bar nights and we actually got off on the wrong foot. I told her to leave.”
“Jaxson!”
Trust me, I’m saying the same thing to myself right now, for letting myself get to that spot.
“It was valid, I didn’t want her getting mixed up in all that shit. She’s… good, you know? To some extent, I still feel like I’m going to taint her in some way.”
My mother put her hand on my shoulder, smiled sweetly, and shook her head.
“Oh, Jaxson. She sounds like the kind of girl who wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to do, so don’t worry about that. Just be good to her. You treat her right, it’ll all work out.”
I wasn’t so sure that fingering her in the forest was what my Mom had asked… but then again, Isabelle was also seemingly on the verge of going all the way with me there, so maybe it was what my mom had asked.
“Thanks. I’ll try.”
My words, much like my mother’s from before, were meant as a signal of sorts to end this conversation. I’d opened up enough.
“When can I meet her?”
That made me stand up. My mom hadn’t seemed to catch on as much as I had.
“Oh Mom, I don’t know. We’re not that serious yet, and I don’t know if we will be.”
But then I stopped and realized that I actually wanted her to meet my mom. Shit. I had never wanted to intentionally introduce anyone to my mom at any point in my life.
But now… I wanted Isabelle to meet her so my mom could see how important she was to me. Maybe it was a tad too fast, and maybe the others would give me shit for it. But, hey… why not?
“Okay, I’ll leave you alone,” she said, allowing me a pass on the topic for now. “But everyone is coming for dinner tonight.”
“Got it,” I said, not exactly disappointed to have let the conversation died where it did.
“I have to go run some errands. Finish your breakfast.”
She got off her stool to come hug me goodbye, and then, like that, she was gone. And now, I’m up well before I’d normally be awake. Well, shit.
I ended up finishing the whole casserole and grabbed the mail. It wasn’t exactly a joyous occasion, though, for in there was a new bill from the city SBO. Fuck me. Can’t even avoid it outside the club.
Simon was right about it being just after the first of the year—and that was just to avoid penalties and fees. Undoubtedly, there’d be pressure of other kinds to try and force us to pay a little bit earlier.
I felt a splitting headache come on suddenly. Part of it was the stress, but part of it was also that I hadn’t gotten to bed until very late and had woken up early to satisfy my mother’s breakfast-making urges. I couldn’t go on like this—I needed a nap.
And so, what I had taken to be an hour-long nap soon turned into a nap so long that when I woke up, I saw multiple messages from my brothers and mother, asking me to confirm that I would be at dinner around six… which was apparently only now a couple of hours away.
Groggily and wearily, I headed to the shower to wash over and then to get dressed. Even though we were in a motorcycle club and always doing rough shit, we had to be dressed nice for dinner at my mother’s. I found khakis and a nicer tee shirt, dark blue, and wore it under my cut.
And then I realized that I hadn’t done something all day that I probably should have—texted Isabelle.
“Hey, slept in late. How was your day?”
It was short, curt, and to the point—just how I liked my messages.
She didn’t take long to respond.
“Yeah, I just had a rough time in class. College kids are assholes. And that’s what I would have rather been doing. Sleeping in late sounds amazing!”
I couldn’t resist the chance to flirt.
“With me?”
I didn’t have to wait long for her reply.
I grinned and shook my head. I liked her sense of humor.
“Well, we wouldn’t have been sleeping.”
“Oh. Don’t distract me.”
Don’t tempt me. In fact…
“You busy?”
“Sort of, I was plotting. Are you?”
Plotting, eh? As much as I wanted to follow through on my text, as much as I wanted to hop right back on my bike and head over to Isabelle’s and do all the things we didn’t do last night…
I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave my brothers. And I especially couldn’t leave my mother.
“Sadly, yeah. About to have dinner with my mom and brothers. So I’m about to be very busy and annoyed. I’ll call you later.”
I locked my phone and made my way to my mother’s, driving the bike as quickly as I could. I figured the sooner dinner finished, the sooner I might get a chance to spend some quality time with Isabelle.
As soon as I pulled up, I tried to hide my grin from the thoughts of Isabelle from Matthew, but it did little good.
“Why are you hiding?” Matthew said, with his beer in one hand and piece of bread in the other.
“I’m not,” I said, almost an instinctive lie to anyone I hadn’t preplanned to tell the truth to. “What’s she making?”
“Spaghetti,” he said, nodding to my phone. “Who were you talking to? I know you’ve been doing something with someone.”
“How did you know I was… no one.”
I shook my head at him and tried to move around him. I really wasn’t interested in any of this, not unless I’d given some thought to it all. But we got sandwiched between two pillars when he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.
“Come on and spill before I tell everyone else. You can fool a couple of us, but not me.”
I sighed. I really wasn’t going to get out of this one, it seemed.
“I was talking to Isabelle.”
“No shit,” Matthew said. “But I mean, what were you talking about?”
“We went out last night and so we talked about that.”
I nervously waited for the shit Matthew was about to give me. I definitely didn’t need that added onto my plate of things I had to worry about.
Fortunately, that wasn’t the case.
“I don’t think I have ever seen you go on a date,” he said with a smile. “Nice to know you’re capable of love.”
“I could say the same to you, asshole.”
But we were soon laughing and slapping each other on the shoulder as brothers often did.
“Right on. Let’s get in there before—”
“What are we whispering about?” Zeke said.
Goddamnit, Matthew, you little--
“Nothing.”
Huh, guess you are helpful sometimes.
“Hey don’t hate on the youngest.”
“Boys, I can hear you out there, come and set the table!” Mom yelled.
Never had I felt so grateful to have mom yell at us all to come in and help. I moved past Zeke as quickly as I could, nodding to Simon as I moved in.
At some point, with the envelope announcing the bill, I’d have to spill the bad news. But for now…
I just wanted to enjoy some home-cooked food.
“We should start grilling Zeke now.”
Matthew suggested the statement with a humorous tone after Simon had, as was typical, barely elaborated upon his work, even if my mother had tried to get him to say more. Although Simon smirked at the idea of the spotlight coming off of him, my focus was elsewhere.
My mind was on the club and Isabelle, darting between the two and unable to decide which one to focus on. If I can’t figure out how to come up with the money, then we will be shit out of luck. The club will go down in less than a year of me taking the cut as president.
And Isabelle… if I can’t figure out how to open up to her, I know I won’t be able to keep her.
Sounds like I got some shit to take care of, huh?
“What did Zeke do?” Mom asked with an innocent tone, as if Zeke can do no wrong.
Honestly, in her eyes, he can’t. That’s her youngest and most perfect. He also was apparently born at a hard time for Mom and Dad, but I had never pressed the issue—some things, I just didn’t need to know.
“Nothing. That’s the problem. He’s always fucking asking for money.”
It was a bit bold to say such a thing out loud—and with a swear, no less—in front of my mother, but Matthew seemed to be in a bombastic mood. The question was, was his humor going to slowly melt into some harsh words? Or was it just him being goofy and careless with his language?
“Oh please, Zeke is a good boy,” Mom said, although she had something in her voice that said she knew we were the right ones.
“Yeah, I’m a good boy.” Zeke said. “Plus, I have a job. The club is my job. And I bartend when I so feel like it too. So, yeah, I’m on top of it.”
“I agree. That is a real job.” Mom said.
“Then why don’t you ever have any money?” Matthew retorts.
OK, this is shifting pretty drastically from funny to serious. This is not how family dinners are supposed to go.
“Honey, your food is getting cold.”
My Mom tried to quell the interrogation, but Matthew just waved her off. I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with it all, but I definitely couldn’t leave now.
“People are shitty tippers. I can’t really help it much.”
Zeke was trying to respond with his fake innocent tone. Unfortunately, if anyone in the club knew when he was full of shit, it was me, Matthew, and Simon. He wasn’t going to punk anyone.
“Hmph. Well, you need to get your shit in order.”
If Matthew was trying to hide his tone with Zeke, he was doing a terrible job at it—and I was quite sure by now he didn’t give a shit that Mom was right there, listening to it all.
“And I’m just not supposed to ask about where you get your money?” Zeke said.
Aw, shit, guys, really?
Suddenly the room was thicker, the tone having switched to something more serious that I couldn’t place. It was apparent that there were things I didn’t know, and while that was fine, bringing it up at the dinner table…
Matthew looked pale in the face looks that way. It was not an expression that I saw often, but on Matthew right now, it was inescapable. Now, as club president, I felt I had to know.
“What’s he talking about?” I said.
No one responded with anything.
“If this affects the club, I need to know now,” I said, trying my best to maintain calm in front of my mother. “If not, then we can just leave it be and handle it between yourselves, not for the dinner table.”
Zeke and Matthew glared at each other, as if waiting for the other to crack. Neither one seemed interested in doing so, which was only making for a more awkward dinner conversation. I was about to tell them to both leave when finally, Zeke spoke up.
“It’s nothing.”
Zeke smiled in a way that unsettled me. Matthew still had that concerned look on his face. I had a bad feeling this was going to come back and bite us in the ass later, but for now…
“Well I made dessert, so Jaxson, come help me,” Mom said, standing and enlisting me as her helper.
I had never felt so eager to help. Admittedly, I also wondered if she needed something from me, if she was trying to get my time, but right now, I just wanted to get the fuck away from the madness that was Zeke and Matthew. I walked around the black tiled kitchen counter to face her as she unwrapped what looks like a banana cobbler.
“What do you need my help with?” I said.
“I need your help getting peace of mind,” she said.
There was no humor in her tone. It was very clear this was a serious question. I frowned and tilted my head at her, placing my hands on either side of me on the counter to lean over.
“Mom�
��”
“Don’t Mom me and don’t give me that look. What is going on with the club?”
“Nothing, it’s—”
“Jaxson, don’t lie. You can tell me.”
Goddamnit, Mom. Did we really have to get to this spot?
And Matthew, Zeke, fuck you both. I’m gonna kick both of your asses for turning this dinner into the tensest thing I’ve ever seen.
“You said that you and Dad didn’t talk about everything that was going on in the club. And that’s how you made your marriage last so long.”
It was a weak defense, and my mother knew it.
“I did say that, but you’re my son, and I’m your mother. What could I be doing wrong if you won’t lean on me?”
I sighed, indecision crossing my mind. My jaw clenched as I fell deep in thought, debating whether or not to disclose all the information from our most recent club meeting. I didn’t want to get into the stuff going on in the background, but if Mom wanted to know…
I went with my first impulse.
“Nothing, Mom. I know I can lean on you.”
I just don’t want to.
She paused to look up at me with her clear eyes, unwavering as always. I knew there must be a storm going on in her head, worrying about all of us, and then about work and whatever else she goes through that we don’t even know about. And I knew that my decision to remain mum had only served to make things more suspicious.
But everyone had a point where they gave up, and my mom had hit it. I wasn’t sure if I was happy or not about that.
“Let’s go. They’ll get rowdy soon.”
I got a sick feeling in my stomach from disappointing her and letting her down. Part of me wished that I had just told her the truth, given the slump in her shoulders and dejection in her voice when she says dessert had arrived. I probably only made it worse by not telling her and having her think something more was wrong. I felt like I broken something between us, and I hated it.
By the time I left the house in a hurry, eager to get away from the stress of it all, the situation hadn’t resolved itself. Not when I hugged her goodnight and she kissed my cheek like always. Not when I looked back at her as I got on my bike. Not as I gave one final glance after starting the engine.
When I looked in her eyes, it only made me want to go to one place.
